


vibe check

by Amalockh (taffeta)



Category: Dark Pictures Anthology, Man of Medan
Genre: Brad: comes over to talk about the Pythagorean theorem or whatever, Fliss is deadass tired of these American shenanigans, For real i don’t know a thing about boats, M/M, Wrote this while drinking, a cockpit?, conrad: so we gon fuck orrrr, i havent even finished the game yet, lets get brad drunk, liberal use of boat terms, pirate free au, what is the back of a boat like the part where people sit in called?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 09:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20525594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taffeta/pseuds/Amalockh
Summary: Five friends get drunk on a boat, and have a great time. There's no weird shit.





	vibe check

**Author's Note:**

> Me, after writing this and realizing Conrad and Brad could be/could’ve been brothers in-law: oh, hmm, weird. sorry. 
> 
> i was also drinking while i wrote and edited this because i wrote the drink and i was like 'dam...that shit sound good' so i went and made it lmao don't expect much. look at the title i mean fuck

“Drinking makes me sick,” Brad eyed the cup of jungle juice uncomfortably, as if it was readying to rear up and bite him. Conrad rolled his eyes but didn’t stop pouring the rum; one hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle and the other on a red solo cup filled with his own special mixture of fireball, and malibu with pineapple and mango juice, pounding it back.

“Everything makes you sick, bro. The drinks, the ocean—”

“Milk too,” he finished helpfully, “I have a dairy allergy.”

“And the man’s got a dairy allergy!” Conrad tsked, shaking his head slowly.

Their little party of five sat on the back of the boat, rocking in time with the roughness of the sea; Julia and Alex occupied one side of the gunwhale. Brad and Conrad sat on the other. And Fliss managed to grab a seat that was as close to the drinks as physically possible. In his head, Brad tallied the times their hospitable boat captain reached out to fill her cup from the pitcher; he started to eye her suspiciously around cup number three. It was getting late into the night, and Fliss had failed to turn on the interior lights of her little shrimping boat. The only illumination came from a lantern Julia had lit on the table, and the lights from their phones.

“Seriously though, Brad,” after the previous conversation about their individual ideas of a good time had come to an end, Julia stuck out her cup towards him, pinning Brad down with her gaze, “you don’t drink, you don’t go out—”

“No, no, wait wait wait,” he shot back, nearly yelling over Julia in order to be heard, “I go out! I do shit! I love doing shit!”

Alex snorted, “Yeah, that geek shit, man. When I tell y’all, trying to get my guy over here out to do anything fun was a _choooore_.”

Brad shrugged, smiling behind his cup. He took a sparrow’s drink of whatever Conrad had mixed up—it wasn’t half terrible actually, and he could taste just a hint of whiskey, exactly the way he liked his alcohol...sin alcohol.

“I’m not big into like, drinks or anything like this-”

“Yeah, no kidding bro.”

“Shut _up_ Alex—but this slaps,” he lifted a thumbs-up Conrad’s way, and the chef of the hour bowed gracefully. Conrad grabbed the bottom of Brad’s cup, and tilted it upwards, towards his lips; Brad took two, three long swallows, clearing it’s contents. It settled amicably in his stomach and left him feeling warmth in his chest. Julia clapped, and his brother let out a low whistle of admiration; Fliss, still as stoic and silent as ever even after three cups of this unholy amalgamation of liquor and fruit, rolled her eyes, smiling at Brad.

“Alex,” Conrad turned towards his brother, a fool’s grin plastered on his face, “I’m gonna get your brother fucked up tonight!”

Alex snorted and Julia shook her head, a small smile teasing the corners of her lips. Fliss eyed Conrad, looking at him with her gaze that had lost its harshness from the night’s drinks.

“Conrad, when he vomits, you are solely responsible for cleaning it up.”

“_If_ I vomit.”

She shook her head, “_When_. It’s going to happen, and when it does, it had better not be on my ship.”

Conrad shook his head, draping an arm around Brad’s shoulders.

“My friend Brad here knows how to handle his liquor, dontcha?”

Brad smiled amicably at Fliss, who looked back, unconvinced, “I got this, Fliss. I know my limit.”

He had two more cups after that.

Julia and Alex had stumbled into bed around one in the morning; in reality, Alex had to help Julia stumble into bed, lifting her up around the waist. Conrad made sure his sister was still breathing, and Alex wished his brother a good night, throwing a strange, unknowable look at Conrad, before retiring below deck. And some point after that, Fliss snuck off, silent as she had initially come; before he himself realized it, Conrad and him were alone on deck, listening to Julia’s playlist through her speakers.

“Vibe check,” Brad managed to choke out, before doubling over in goofy laughter. The two sat in the exact same spot as they had the entire night, but over the liquor, it was becoming increasingly harder for Brad to hear whatever Conrad was saying, so he kept inching closer and closer.

“How you feeling, champ?”

“Yeah....I feel, like,” he doubled over laughing, pushing his face into Conrad’s shoulder, “I feel, wow...dude, you’re bony as shit.”

“Bro, if you’re gonna vom, do it over the side of the boat,” making no attempt to push him away, Conrad wrapped an arm around Brad’s waist, pulling them closer, “I’m gonna fuckin’ make you pay for this shirt if you do it on me. And Fliss is gonna make you…I don’t know, walk the gallows or some shit.”

“I’m poor, I can’t afford that shirt.” Brad slumped over, mumbling through the fabric over Conrad’s stomach, “and they haven’t had gallows since the 1800’s.”

“Then I’ll give you the money to get a new shirt.”

Brad willed himself back into a sitting position, swaying in time with the rough seas. The liquor and motion of the waves were unfortunately starting to bubble up in his stomach; the need to vomit hadn’t come to a head, but it was incessantly knocking like an unwanted guest. He looked over the gunwhale into the blackness of the ocean.

“But then I wouldn’t be paying for the shirt,” he finished quietly, still sitting so close to Conrad that he could feel the moisture (_sweat, seawater?)_ on his exposed skin, “how about I like...make it up to you some other way?" 

A beat of silence passed through them. Conrad, of course Conrad with all of his charmingness that consistently bordered on being an unlikeable rich shithead, made the first move; one arm still wrapped around Brad’s waist, he slid the other across the back of his neck, tangling his fingers in Brad’s short head of hair. In response, Brad slid closer and the two met halfway quietly, something like terror or excitement coiling in his stomach. Through the small slit in between his teeth, Conrad slid his tongue into Brad’s mouth, and he found it immediately hilarious and very mildly hot that on it, he could taste just a hint of pineapple.

The music from Julia’s speakers had gone quiet underneath the ringing in Brad’s ears, as Conrad slid him closer, and Brad went willingly into his lap. The boat rocked viciously once more, and he held onto Conrad for dear life; in return, Conrad snuck his cold fingers under Brad’s shirt, stroking him down around the hips.

Conrad, always with his unshakable coolness and him held on; but he, the geeky Brad, heart thumping like a jackhammer, was breathing so hard out of terror and excitement, and the rising nausea in his throat, that he was forced to pull away.

“Dude, you suck at kissing,” he chuckled, pressed forehead to forehead with Brad, “you’re fuckin terrible. We need to practice.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you want,” he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, stammering, racking his brain to find the right words under the shock and rolling waves and jungle juice, “w-we can, y’know, practice or whatever. That’s cool. We can do it right now, I mean, if you’re like not busy or whatever.”

Conrad squinted, “We’re on a boat in the middle of nowhere, what the fuck could I possibly be busy with right now?”

“I don’t know!” Brad threw his hands up, and the action went straight to his stomach; the nausea had blossomed into an incessant need to vomit, and vomit soon, “dude, I’m all like...flustered and shit! Cause I’ve never done this before!” 

Still running his hands over Brad’s sides, Conrad asked, “what, like, got drunk or...?”

“Damn dude, to name a few: I’ve never made out with a dude before, never got this drunk before, never...did whatever we’re about to do in your room-”

“Oh, we’re moving this party to the bedroom now, huh?” Conrad waggled his eyebrows, sliding his hands downwards, one of them landing in Brad’s back pocket, “What you tryna do tonight?”

Brad shrugged, moving to stand up; his knees were killing him in this position. Before he could, Conrad pulled him in one last time by the collar of his shirt.

“Guess we’ll see where the night takes us?” Conrad leaned in again, but Brad managed to stop him with a hand over his mouth.

“But first, I need to throw up.” 

He pivoted toward the side of the ship and spewed the night’s contents over into the ocean. Conrad patted him on the back.

“Yeah...might want to brush your teeth, too.” Brad vomited, and over the sound Conrad finished with, “I think Julia brought mouthwash with her.”

**Author's Note:**

> all of my works involve drinking and getting high you can see where my priorites r


End file.
